


Without you, I am nothing

by PansySky, XeonKhan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Holy fuck Jesse stop that, Its now a oneshot, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oneshot, Reaper's a shit here, Redo of an old fic, So damn reckless, im so sorry, like what the fuck, not really - Freeform, there's so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PansySky/pseuds/PansySky, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeonKhan/pseuds/XeonKhan
Summary: Within the past year of Hanzo being in Overwatch, he noticed a large difference in the amount of injuries his new-found partner had received. They worked well together; the archer knew exactly how close he could skim the gunslinger to hit his enemies, and the cowboy knew just how to lead enemies to their deaths. He enjoyed covering for the gunslinger, keeping him alive and taunting him of his stupidity when able to. As soon as the gunslinger disappeared, a gut clenching thought took over Hanzo, and he couldn't free himself of the sudden sense of dread he felt in his heart.





	Without you, I am nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XeonKhan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeonKhan/gifts).



> So. First time publishing a fanfic, I hope it's up to your liking. This is actually a re-uploaded one-shot version of the same fic, that I finally finished, geeze. 
> 
> The pov will be swapping often, though I'll be sure to make it known when it swaps.

For the longest time, Jesse did whatever he could to avoid having to take orders. Whether it was going off on solo missions or just ignoring the commands outright. He'd almost always get scolded by Morrison about endangering himself, but what was the fun in a straight up-no risks mission? To one who'd lived the life of an outlaw and a vigilante, there was no fun in it, and he aimed to misbehave if he had to in order to make it more interesting.  
  
Some would call him reckless, some an idiot, and some even brave. But he didn't really follow with any of that. He was just...himself. He was the one who went ahead and scoped in missions, the one who went alone with reckless abandon, and the one who usually ended up taking most of the bullets. Angela always had him covered though, sewing up bullet hole after bullet hole.

 

Recently, Mcree noticed a distinct shortage of wounds on his end, and at first, he was sure it was just dumb luck. Then, it was his skill, and after so long of this happening, he connected it to he only change in the past year;  the addition of Hanzo, and logically, he soon realized that the sniper had saved his sorry ass more than enough times to be able to predict when and where he would made a stupid decision.  
  
Sure, he was grateful, hell, even liked it,  he just found it odd. He could have sworn the other was tailing him specifically, though it might have just been in his head. Or the fact that he seemed to be the most chaotic on the team, usually the one being targeted by the others. But the addition of the archer behind his back still didn't exactly stop himself from getting into trouble, time after time after time.  
  
If anything, it made him more eager to be reckless. He figured the shorter man could do it; he always had, right?

 

This mission, however... this one was different. Another Talon takeover, and another one where he'd straight up ignore most of his commands. While everyone was on the front, he had decided himself to go around the side, sneaking in and taking as many as he could by surprise.  
  
At first it seemed to go perfectly fine; Flashbang, headshot, roll away, repeat. It was his usual rhythm, and though he hadn't yet noticed any arrows fly past him, he didn't think much of it. Hanzo must have noted he could take care of himself, and that he could.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

  


Ever since he had joined Overwatch, Hanzo had gotten far too used to tedious missions and following orders. The only reason he didn't protest was because... Well he was in no position to, for one, and on the other hand, it was better than doing nothing. So he held his tongue whenever he was asked to step off to the side and act only as a sniper for a mission-Which was, of course, ridiculous. He knew he'd do much more good on the battlefield than on the sidelines. But he didn't complain when he was given a position.  
  
There was someone though, who seemed to act a bit on their own accord. Sure Jesse still followed orders but... Well he was different. At first, Hanzo had absolutely no respect for the absurd cowboy. But needless to say, Jesse had grown on him. Whether it was the other man's snarky comments through the coms during missions, or his general ridiculousness around base.  
  
He knew it was stupid. But Hanzo couldn't help but worry sometimes. He worried about all of his comrades of course, every member on the team did. But Jesse was incredibly stressful compared to the rest. Mostly because he was reckless as all hell. Hanzo wanted to shake him every time he got himself hurt. How could he not? Maybe it was Jesse's similarity to his own little brother. But part of Hanzo knew it was more than that.  
  
He did his best though. Picking attackers off from his sniper spot every time he was pushed off to the side and not complaining. He had saved several people from a bullet to the back with a well-aimed shot before. And he never expected any sort of thanks for it. Which was why he brushed Angela off with a slight scoff and an 'it's nothing.' that evening after putting an arrow through a Talon agents eye before he could choke her from behind.

 

The evening had been relatively quiet. Which wasn't really a good thing. Usually in missions where they were up against the man called Reaper, it wasn't long before the coms were full of Jack Morrison cursing and the sound of him being thrown into walls or in the middle of a fight. It made the hair on the back of the archer's neck stand on end.  
  
Things were too quiet. The coms were like a ghost town, and he'd give anything just about now to hear another stupid joke from the cowman. Who, speaking of, Hanzo couldn't see. The man was a god-damned target, one who always stood out, and now that he disappeared, a sense of dread started to tangle in the pit of his stomach. He tried to reassure himself that Jesse was fine, he was just flanking, and he'd see that ugly hat in no time. He was in no way prepared for the call on the coms.

 

____________________________________________________________________________  
  


Jesse didn't even try to quiet his steps, not like he could anyways, even if he wanted to. His spurs clicked as he stalked through the hallways, dark and cold, sending a shiver up his spine. He expected to find more than just a couple of agents, and it was somewhat unsettling.  
  
He stopped for a moment before backing into a wall, and speaking into the com, "Jesus, it sure is mighty quiet in here. Has me a mite unsettled, let me tell 'ya. I'll be back out momentarily-" As he spoke, Jesse could hear someone approaching, and turned to pull his gun on them.

 

Too late. Too late, and he was on the ground, com still active. A string of curses could be heard on his end, before he was able to yell out, "Target found, I repeat, target found. Currently engaged, requesting back-" And the transmission ended, with a loud thud, presumably with Jesse being thrown against a wall. There were multiple gunshots, almost none of them giving the same sound a peacekeeper, and another voice chimed in.

 

"Send the boy scout my regards, will you?" There was a cackle, another gunshot, and the sound of the com being disconnected. Jesse's vision began to fade, and it wasn't long until he was thrown into a restless sleep.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

The sound of the other man’s voice over the coms made Hanzo's spine prickle in the worst way. That was not  how Jesse should have sounded. That was also not supposed to be the sounds he heard from the other man. At the sound of static, Hanzo could hear Jack cursing over the coms and the sound of his rifle firing off several rounds before Hanzo watched the other man run off to find their resident idiot gunslinger.  
  
The silence on the end of McCree's line made the archer prickle with worry. He was fine wasn't he? He had to be. He had likely gotten his earpiece knocked out and it had been stepped on. It had happened more than once. Yeah... That was it.

 

Hanzo shook off the worry clouding him as he picked off another agent who had directed a tactical knife in the direction of his brother. The irony of the action wasn't lost on him the first time he saved Genji's life. But he was trying not to focus on the silence on Jesses line, instead turning his gaze to the battlefield and drawing another arrow for when he would need it.  
  
Part of him urged him to go find the idiot cowboy and curse him out for being reckless enough to get his com knocked out of his ear. "Jesse!" The cry over the com made Hanzo lock up. He had never heard Morrison sound so distressed. What the hell was wrong? "Jesse, kid? Hey talk to me!"

 

 _The scene might as well have been right out of a horror movie. Bright red Serape, stained with darkening red spots torn off and on the ground, signature hat nowhere to be seen. Jesse lay on the ground no more than 10 feet from them, riddled with holes and bleeding out in front of them. None of the shots aimed to kill, only to draw blood and make the death as painful and gruesome as possible._  
_  
_ Sure, it's something they expected from talon, but seeing a comrade who seemed unkillable laying lifeless in front of them... it was haunting. The prosthetic arm belonging to the gunslinger was blown into small bits around the area, several bullet holes in his shoulders and stomach as well as his legs. Whoever did it was skilled, and Jack knew exactly who it was.

 

There was the sound of Jack's heavy rifle clattering to the ground and the shift of cloth as someone or something was lifted. "What is it Jack?" Angelas voice over the coms was worried, and Hanzo crouched in tense silence as he heard the sound of Jack's visor being pulled from his face. Oh god, he should have heard Jesse's voice by that point. The idiot cowboy should have made some sort of half-assed attempt at joking around with the commander.  
  
"Get over here! Now Angela!" Jack's voice was rough and there was silence for a long moment over the coms as Hanzo forced himself to raise his bow again. No. Jesse had to be okay. He was probably just knocked out.  
  
"Oh god..." Angelas startled gasp over the coms made Hanzo go rigid. It was bad, wasn't it? "I'm not getting a pulse Jack." There was a terrified note to her voice before her com turned off and so did Jacks.  
  
Hanzo froze, Jesse was dead? How? Something coursed through him and it didn't take long before he was down off the roof and joining the others despite his orders. With Hanzo on the battlefield amongst the thick of things, the mission was over soon enough and it wasn't long before they were heading back to base. Hanzo staring blankly at the floor of their transport. He hadn't seen Jesse, Jack or Angela, but he was trying to process the fact that the idiot cowboy was dead.

The ride back was hellish, and he felt that even that word was an understatement. The usually loud cabin of the transport ship was dead silent, and he found some irony in the wording. The cowboy- his cowboy, dare he say - was dead. Jesse McCree had been targeted as a means of revenge against Jack Morison, and Hanzo was the most angry he'd ever been.  
  
The few people who tried to console him, Lena, with her, 'Don't worry love! That rascal is too tough to go down like that!' had been dismissed with a grunt, and the only other person who came to him was Genji, and all he offered was, 'I am sorry, Anija. I know how you felt for him.' before he sat next to his brother, offering him nothing but reassuring silence.  
  
He was glad that his anger wouldn't allow him to break down; he wouldn't cry, he couldn't cry; all he saw was red, and as soon as he found Morrison, he was as good as a dead man.

 

He was commander- He should have had watch on everyone- Jesse's death is his fault. It was a plot to get at 76, and he didn't know if it was working, seeing as the strike commander was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Angela, for that matter, and he figured she, Morison, and Jesse were on a separate transport.  
  
It was for the best, he thought. He knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself when he saw that ass of a captain, and deep down he really hoped that no one stopped him from killing the man himself.  He deserved it, after all.

 

As soon as they landed he was headed to the med bay, Angela and Morison outside, conversing. It had been said to the rest of the crew that Jesse was fine, he was revitalized, and he would definitely make it, but there was sorrow in Angela's eyes when she told him. Hanzo had know from years of dealing with it himself that the woman was lying through her teeth.  
  
In all reality, she didn't expect him to last through the night, and was hoping to help coax her teammates into a slumber, if even just for the night.

 

Any of the new recruits in the hallway immediately scattered at the sight of the archer, eyes wide and brows furrowed with wrath. He was almost shaking, his vision gone red as he grabbed Morison roughly by the collar, snarling in his face. "You! This is all your fault! What the hell kind of commander are you, did you even give a second thought at Jesse's not being seen by us? No, of course you didn't, you self-absorbed Gesu yaro!"  
  
He was seething with anger, and Angela stepped back, eyes widening. It took her a moment to reach for a phone on the wall, muttering something into it that Hanzo couldn't hear. Morison seemed to have no reaction yet, arms crossed as he stared down at the younger man through his visor.

 

"This would not have happened if it weren't for your petty quarrel with that.. that.. that thing! He only went after Jesse because he knew it would hurt you, and now he's dead! Are you happy? Are you happy that you took away one of the few remaining people I actually cared about? He was my partner, for gods' sake!" If it weren't for the blind rage he was in, he would have noticed the almost-silent footsteps approaching behind him, taking in a sharp breath and turning once he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Brother," the cyborg would start, "I know you are upset, but this is not the commander's fault. It is no one's fault, except for the man who did it." He gave a pause, turning the older man to face him, setting both hands on his shoulders. Normally he would push the other away, but he couldn't now. Genji was the only one left, and he almost savored the soft touch on his shoulders. "There is still hope. Jesse is alive, still kicking. Even talking some, in his sleep. It is not wise to visit him, though."

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

The blackness that had taken him was a nightmare, and it only left him with the thought that he was going to die there. He was going to die without having made a large enough mark, without saying goodbye, without even giving his true feelings to a certain someone. Something in him knew he had unfinished business, and gave him the will to go on.  
  
Despite the fact that he could have been considered swiss cheese, despite it being ruled out that he would die tonight. He still couldn't open his eyes, his breathing shallow, but growing more steady as time went by. He gave a quiet groan, trying to listen to what went on around him.  
  
All he could figure was that it was Hanzo yelling, and Morrison being yelled at. He wanted to yell out that he was here and still kicking, but he only had enough strength left to keep his own breathing as steady as possible.

 

Everything was fuzzy. The now steady beeping of the monitor, the yelling in the background(which he hadn't noticed was coming to an end), even Angela's hushed whispers to him. He tried once more to open his eyes, squinting at the bright light.  
  
He could see Angela, blurry it might've been, fussing over him as he tried to sit up, giving a cry of pain and slumping back down. She said she would have killed him herself if he did anything that idiotic again. The only response he could give was the quiet and pained drawl, "S'all good, ma'am," before he gave a cough, followed by another groan of pain.  
  
Why was he in this state? He couldn't remember. What made this happen again? He took a while to think of it, closing his eyes and Angela changed his bandages.

 

He remembered the raid, and running off on his own. He remembered the soldiers he had taken down and.. and /him/. He remembered now. He had thought the man was after him for leaving, but no. He was just a play to get at the commander. Reaper didn't even care that Mcree had left, he only seemed to smirk under that mask of his before mercilessly going out on him.  
  
He wished it would have been revenge against himself, he didn't need Jack feeling sorry for him. He had fallen back into a sleep, though it had been short lived. His blood-stained bandages had been moved, and he could now see the field of stitches his chest had become. How did he pull through? It was like he wasn't even aiming. He didn't want a kill shot; he wanted to cause pain, to Mcree and therefore to Morrison. He'd get his own vengeance in soon enough, no one takes down Jesse Mcree and gets away with it.

 

He soon heard the quiet footsteps of the younger Shimada, soon being shooed away from Mercy. He wouldn't leave though, not until he was told the real diagnosis. As she had realized he saw through the lie, she told him that the only reason Jesse had survived was that all of the shots missed vital organs. It took at least 12 bullets to take this cowboy down, and even when it looked grim, he still refused to just let up and die.  
  
The cyborg would nod, agreeing to leave in order to go calm his brother. He knew that he might be the only one who could, or at least the news would help him.

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

It was Angela now, that chimed in, "Ah, well, he is still not in... The best shape. I am not sure that you would really want to see that, Mr.Shimada. I don't know how you will react, and I don't know if I can let you in," She finished her sentence off with an idle hum, arms loosely crossed in front of her stomach. Even she looked shaken by today's events.

 

"Just let him see McCree. What good is it going to do having him wreaking havoc while he doesn't have everything on lockdown?" Jack shot Hanzo a sharp glare that Hanzo returned silently. He still blamed Jack's carelessness. He didn't know the other mans past with Reaper, but if they hadn't had whatever quarrel they so obviously had, then Jesse never would have been wounded enough for his heart to stop.  
  
Hanzo was hurt enough to want to inflict that hurt on someone else, and deep inside he was glad his brother stopped him.

 

There was a long moment of hesitation before a metallic sigh broke the silence and Genji snaked an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders to keep his brother in line. "Fine, but you follow all of Angela’s orders without complaint. If she asks you to leave, you must leave, do you understand me?" Genji didn't look at his brother as Hanzo cracked his knuckles nervously and nodded.  
  
He knew Genji was one of the biggest advocates for Angela getting the respect she deserved. But at the same time, he was slightly annoyed by his brother’s words. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that the doctors were to be trusted, especially Angela. He just wanted to make sure McCree was alright himself. Or maybe he didn't.

 

Upon seeing the other man in his hospital bed swathed in bloodstained bandages, Hanzo had to choke down a distressed noise. He could see the steady rise and fall of the cowboys chest though, and that made some of the tension leak from his shoulders as he approached the other man’s bedside.  
  
He hesitated before he reached out and rested a couple of fingers against the side of Jesse’s neck. He could hear the chirp of the heart monitor, but the steady thrum of the other man’s pulse under his fingertips was much more reassuring.

 

"You can stay if you'd like." Angelas voice was quiet, but it still made Hanzo jump a bit as he took a step back from the hospital bed.  


"I think I may..." His gaze never left Jesse as worry washed over him. He could tell Jesse wasn't in the clear as of that point in time. But he had more than enough faith that Jesse would pull through.  
Being this close to Jesse. he could still faintly smell whiskey, smoke, and sweat, the smell of blood mingled in making him uneasy. He wished he didn't have to see his friend like this; His left arm was gone, the pieces of it in a bin to be sent to Torborn for the fix, and Jesse, covered in blankets to the waist, his torso and just about everything else covered in newly changed bandages.

 

____________________________________________________________________________  
  


His eyes lidded shut again as he heard footsteps approaching, his vision too blurry to focus, making him feel nauseous. He stayed silent and still upon the arrival of his guests, drifting back into sleep, only barely stirring at the feeling of fingers on his neck.  
  
It caused him to give the faintest smile, turning his head lazily and trying his damnedest to raise his own arm and reach for the hand he felt before. He needed comfort; He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he needed the comfort of someone's touch. He needed something to be able to tell that he was still kicking.

 

His eyes opened just a bit once more, adjusting to the light again and looking straight at Hanzo, still mostly lidded as a smile came on his face.  
  
"'Ey Angela, didn't realize you had 'nother angel about here," He gave a quiet chuckle, followed by a cough that caused her to give a worried glance over to him. "Can't say I'd mind dying in the arms of an angel like this," and with that he tried once more to reach for Hanzo, only lifting the real one barely off of his chest.  
  
Hanzo gave a quick squint, before darting in his question, "Jesse, it is me. Your partner, remember?"  
  
Jesse seemed a bit confused. Maybe it was the medication, as Hanzo tried to justify it.  _“_ ‘M sorry, Darlin’, but I don’t quite recognize ya. What’s yer name again?”  
  
  
  
He realized the bionic arm had been removed at the moment, realizing it sat in a tub on the counter, riddled with spare holes from missed gunshots. He tried to sneer at it, his eyes closing once more, and his hands going back to his chest. "I..I sure am mighty tired," He'd try to continue, breathing now a bit more raspy from the amount of talking he did. Angela continued trying to shush him, "You'll still be 'ere when I wake, right Mr.Angel?"

 

It was hard to tell whether his words were from the medication he had to be on to keep him alive, or just him being himself, Jesse giving a loud exhale and cough, his eyes closing all the way and leaving him to drift back into unconsciousness once more.  
  
Angela gave a nod to let Hanzo know it would be fine to stay while he slept; she could tell he felt something more for this man by the look in his eyes, telling him that, if he wanted, he could hold Jesse's hand. It wouldn't hurt him, he wouldn't even know.

 

"You nearly got yourself killed, you stupid cowman," He would start, earning a part-smirk from Jesse, "Of course I will be here. I will always be here, so rest."

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

The sound of Jesse's voice nearly broke him. He turn to look at Angela, who nodded, with a quiet 'I will give you some privacy' before she left into her office.  
  
Hanzo brought a chair to the bed now, holding one of Jesse's hands in his own, and delicately placing his lips to the surface of it before rubbing his thumb over the knuckles. He knew Jesse didn't feel it. He knew Jesse didn't even know; It comforted him, though not enough to hold back the tears.  
  
It wasn't long until his vision was blurred, hot tears swelling over his lashes and rolling down his cheeks. He soon rested his face gently against the uninjured part of the gunslinger's shoulder, sobbing softly and quietly into the bandages. He stayed like this for what seemed like hours, falling asleep, and only rousing when Angela gently touched him on the shoulder.

 

"Mr.Shimada," She would start, giving him a worried look. He was still covered in blood and caked on dirt from the battle, hair messy and face red from the earlier tears, "You must take care of yourself. Jesse will be upset if you ruin your health just to stay with him. He will not wake for another few hours, please. Shower, eat, and rest. You can come back after Zenyatta has confirmed to me that you have done all of this."

  
The notion only earned a huff from Hanzo, to which Angela gave a glare. It was this that made him stand, because if there was one thing he didn't want, it was the doctor being angry with him.  
  
He knew she'd be pulling plenty of bullets out of him someday, and he didn't need her upset. He turned to the door, Zenyatta sitting there quietly, and he knew her threat was indeed true.  
  
He gave a small sigh before leaning over and planting the most gentle of kisses on McCree's forehead, rubbing a thumb over his cheek before turning, rubbing the heel of his palm over his own cheek, and leaving with Zenyatta. He was glad neither of them commented.  
  
Attachments were inhibiting and only brought pain. That’s what he was always told, and what he continued to tell himself, until he finally felt safe enough to let just one attachment form. He’d gotten _too_ attached, and now he’s sobbing over a man who doesn’t even remember his damn name.  
  
_“‘M sorry, Darlin’, but I don’t quite recognize ya. What’s yer name again?”_  
  
The words pierced his heart, and he had just looked down, excused himself from the room, and went to his own.  
  
“Mr.Shimada, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Angela would begin, after he’d calmed down a bit, “It should only be temporary. He remembers me and Jack, it seems he’s only lost the last year or two within the recalled overwatch. I’ve.. Filled him in on what he’s lost, and some of his relationships. It’ll be up to you to bring back the memories of you two together, though,”  
  
He’d politely ask her to leave. He’d visit Jesse later, fill him in, but now was not the time.  
  
Later never came. He never visited Jesse. He never showed them pictures and videos of their time spent together. He never tried speaking to him. If anything, he was avoiding him. Just mentioning his name hurt; he’d fallen so hard for this man, and he couldn’t even remember. He didn’t even know if McCree would feel the same anymore, if He’d still love Hanzo after he gets his memories back.  
  
They never outright said it together, but they both knew. The way McCree would look at him, and how he was able to make him laugh and smile like it was nothing. The nicknames he used on nobody else, the familiar scent of whiskey, smoke, and sweat.  
  
He just wanted things to be the same again. He wanted to go back to giving angry scoffs at his bad jokes, even though he secretly loved them. He wanted them to train together, be partners in battle, partners out of battle. And yet, part of him was sure that it would probably never be the same.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
Jesse never stopped asking for that archer. All he was told was that they were partners in battle, and rather fond of each other otherwise. He came back that one time after he awoke, but once he admitted he couldn’t remember him, he didn’t come around again. Sometimes he could notice the other stalking around outside the med-bay windows when he thought Jesse was asleep. He thought it was sweet, but he still wanted him to come inside again already.  
  
Everyday he’d ask where the man in the wolf armor went, where the angel went, why his archer didn’t come to visit. He didn’t remember, but he sure as hell was interested in learning about him all over again. He wanted to know why he had liked this man so much, and if they liked each other so much, why he wasn’t visiting anymore.  
It hurt, knowing that Angela was giving Hanzo his requests, and that he was being ignored. Why was it so hard to pop by and say hi? He had half a mind to disobey Angela’s orders and hobble on over to Hanzo’s room himself and ask for an explanation.  
  
It’d been over a month now, and yet, still no archer.  Over a month, and his wounds still hadn’t fully recovered. Angela seemed worried; all the biofields could do was numb the pain and the pain wasn’t the problem. Angela wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, but he knew it was bad. He could only see when she changed the bandages, but they didn’t look good. Puffy and red, an infection if he’s ever seen one- and he’s seen more than enough.  
  
He goes to sleep, hazy memories swirling in his head. He remembers a faceless man, sitting under a gorgeous tree, laughing. They lean close to each other, and then pull away, faces red. It seems so familiar, yet Jesse feels as though he’s watching a story play out. Was this something that he and the archer did? Did he hurt the man so badly with the thought of memory loss that he’d sacrifice their relationship?  
  
It’s not long until he wakes again, with the promise of old friends. Captain Amari, and the unmistakably loud voice of Reinhardt. Ana had brought him a bottle of tea, her own brew, and told him to drink it for strength. He promised he would. Reinhardt immediately came to his bedside, grabbing him a bit roughly by the shoulders and shaking him.  
  
“AGENT MCCREE, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE SICK! YOU CAN GET PAST THIS! WILL THE INJURY AWAY, IT’S WHAT I DO! GET!! BETTER!! FOR YOUR HONOR!!”  
  
It’s a matter of seconds before Angela is stomping over, and damn she must be either strong as shit or pissed as hell to be able to drag Reinhardt away. He’s gonna stick with the latter thought.  
  
There aren’t anymore visitors allowed for a while. He understands; all of his wounds opened again, and he’s starting to have a fever. It’s not good, but Angela promises she can heal him. He only sees her smile when that darker skinned woman comes in, Ana’s daughter.. She only stays for a bit, but she always seems a bit more perky after visits.  
  
____________________________________________________________________________  
  
  
The amount of people going into McCree’s room worries him, and yet he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t look into those eyes and hear that the man he loved doesn’t recognize him. He can’t break, won’t break. And yet when Fareeha runs into his room, he still jumps to his feet.  
  
He still runs down the hall at top speed before hearing her words. Fareeha has never come to him before, and yet somehow he still knows what this means. He knows he has to get there, he knows there isn’t time.  
  
Almost the entire original Overwatch crew crowded around the bed, monitor beeping in the background. As soon as Reinhardt caught Hanzo with his gaze, he pulled from the bed and offered his position to him.  
  
A weak smile comes across Jesse’s face, and he holds out his hand, immediately taken by Hanzo’s own. The mask on Jesse breaks him. The site of his wounds break him. The thought of losing him breaks him. The thought of what could never be breaks him.  
  
And yet, when McCree motions him down, and whispers in his ear, like he used to- it crushes him.  
  
‘ _I remember everything.’_  
  
The gunslinger’s hand goes limp, the heat leaving soon after. Silence falls on the room and there’s a mutual understanding to leave them alone. He takes a look at the man he once loved, and he sobs out a quiet ‘I’m sorry’ before leaving.  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, not sorry. I know, it's sad. I know, the original was gonna have fluff.
> 
> Maybe i'll add a flashback chapter if enough people want it.


End file.
